Developmental
by Kit-Pocket
Summary: Relationships grow and change, no matter how they start. Kululu/Dororo
1. Developmental

(just gonna repost this from livejournal 'cause I'm lazy)

Title: Developmental  
Pairing: Kululu/Dororo, slight Dororo/Giroro but not really  
Rating: PG-13 teetering on the edge of M  
Warnings: I am a sap and write as such  
Author's Notes: There isn't really a point to this thing other than creating a whole lot of OTP fanservice for myself, so I apologize ahead of time. Also, I tried to write it ambiguously enough that you could imagine them as either frogs or humans, but I think I accidentally leaned more towards humans around the end. Oh well. Hope you like it, if you read it!

* * *

Dororo wasn't sure how it had happened. But here he was, on the floor of Kululu's lab, gasping for breath after the most incredible sex he'd ever had in his life.

His mask was still hanging from the claw of a metallic tentacle, which sprouted from a machine that had no apparent purpose other than having claws and tentacles. He had to wonder if it had been made specifically for him, or if Kululu had done this before, playing with the hidden desires of his coworkers, or just whoever he felt like toying with at the time. He'd certainly seemed excited to bring it out, and Dororo definitely didn't mind that he had.

Beneath his exhaustion, he felt vague surprise as he turned to see Kululu lying next to him, just as out of breath and looking just as satisfied. He noticed their hands were nearly close enough to touch, and debated between reaching out or pulling back. He ended up pulling back, resting his hand on his chest and feeling his own heartbeat as it began to calm.

A thin wave of awkwardness—or perhaps just the expectation of awkwardness—shivered through him, but it was fighting with an odd feeling of Right. Whatever had just happened, and whatever would come of it, he could find no regret among the feelings soaking past his afterglow.

Whatever had just happened, it had... it had _worked_.

Faint chuckling came from beside him. The air still hadn't caught up with Kululu's lungs. "Was it good for you too? Ku ku ku..."

Something in the way he'd said that cliché, wheezy line made Dororo want to toss aside his exhaustion and make it happen all over again. _Good_ he says.

But even he couldn't muster up the energy, and as Right as it had been, he didn't want to push it too far. So he just wiped away some sweat from his cheek and gasped, "Good. Yes. Very."

He wanted to rest (wanted to cuddle, even, but he tried to ignore that thought). But he knew he couldn't stay. Koyuki would wonder where he had gone, and with his luck, someone else would walk in on them curled up together on the floor. That or Kululu would make him leave himself. He wanted to avoid that possibility. He didn't know what this had been, but the thought of Kululu kicking him out still bothered him. A lot. Maybe later he would think about why.

He pushed himself up and grabbed his mask. In the corner of his eye he could see Kululu studying him, perhaps catching the final glimpses of his face as he covered it again. Something about that was intimate, too intimate, and he began to feel scared, scared of what this would mean and how it would change the way things moved through time. But fear always did bring an adrenaline rush, and it excited him. It made him bold.

His mask firmly in place, he looked back. "Again sometime?"

Kululu grinned wider and laughed. "Definitely."

He returned the grin, not caring if Kululu could even tell. His heart was beating fast again.

He left and didn't look back.

–

A bath had been welcome before returning home, making him glad that their hideout had such an odd and diverse array of facilities. Somebody had thought to install a shower, and what could only be called a bathhouse. He would have liked a soak, but he didn't have time now. He had to wash away the sweat and the remaining weakness in his knees.

He tried to think back on how it had all happened. It wasn't that he couldn't remember, but whenever he tried to focus his mind would rebound into memories of hot breaths and cooling sighs, and he would shiver and moan and have to make the water falling on him even colder. When he could finally gather his thoughts, he remembered walking into Kululu's lab angry. The sergeant major had done something terrible again, and his blood had been hot with rage, his level of self control low. Then Kululu had turned up his face and teased the edge of his mask, and it had all spiraled from there.

That was no explanation. It didn't make any sense. He couldn't remember feeling any attraction to Kululu before then, only irritation, sometimes anger. Maybe those feelings had been covering up something else, or maybe it had been the way Kululu had been looking at him, or maybe it was how he'd known just where to put his hands...

Dororo shivered again and fell against the wall, arousal spiking up all over again as his memory swam back into the past few hours. Cold water rolled down his skin, but it wasn't enough anymore, and he adjusted the water temperature as his other hand slid down his torso. All alone, he didn't bother to stifle his moans as he replayed it in his mind.

In the lab he'd left behind, monitors played a feed of his every move. Multiple angles, varying distances, all only focused on him, and all being watched by one person, moaning with him in the dim glow of the computer screens.

–

He'd wondered how things would change, and at first it wasn't by much. In front of the others they were still they same people, not speaking to each other, rarely looking at each other. But when they did look, it was through side-eyed glances, slithering stares trailing over familiar paths. The target of Kululu's gaze was always something of a mystery beneath his thick glasses, but Dororo swore he could feel it when the other's eyes were on him, and it pulled the breath from his lungs and made him resist the urge to squirm.

After meetings, if they had been left free to roam (which wasn't too often), they would find one another and accomplish what they could before interruption came. Sometimes they would only manage a touch of the shoulder, sometimes they had several hours alone before other obligations drew them apart. No matter how much time they had, they made sure to make use of every second.

Dororo still didn't know what they had, if it could even be said that they 'had' anything. What he wanted was to keep this casual. The sex was good—okay, _amazing_—but he knew who the partner was, and he didn't want to forget who he was dealing with. Any deeper feelings than lust and Kululu would undoubtedly try to exploit them.

Still, he wondered what this could be called, especially taking the partner into account. He had to question why Kululu hadn't gotten bored of him. Before this, he couldn't see Kululu in a physical relationship. Now he couldn't see him satisfied with only one.

But from what he could tell, Kululu had been spending all his free moments with him. And not because Dororo had been clingy; if anything, Kululu was the one to initiate the most encounters.

For Kululu, it was suspicious. Dororo knew it was. Yet still he had to remind himself to be careful.

Because honestly?

He really liked it.

He liked the attention. He liked what they had. Whatever it was. And even through his doubts and precautions, the desire to just throw away his worries and enjoy it was winning out.

Teeth nipped at his shoulder and he sighed, arching his back in rhythm to the rocking of Kululu's body. He didn't know how long this time would last, how long it would be before someone came knocking at the sergeant major's door, but right now he didn't care.

At least, he didn't care until it actually happened.

"KULULUUUU!" The banging on the door could barely be heard over their leader's high-pitched yelling. "KULULUUUUU I NEED YOOOUUU!"

Dororo pulled up his mask and made to jump into an air vent. He paused when he felt a tugging at his wrist, and looked down to see Kululu's hand slipping from his arm into his palm. Their fingers intertwined, and his heartbeat sped past conscious thought with broken brakes. He didn't let himself look into the meaning deeper than 'stay,' but maybe that said enough on its own.

Though Kululu let go of his hand when he unlocked the door, Dororo could still feel a lingering warmth, and had to force himself to step away from the sergeant major to avoid suspicion.

Keroro didn't seem to take much notice to Dororo's presence, and instead went straight into rambling about the things he needed Kululu to make for the new invasion plan. Kululu listened in silence, and Dororo thought he saw his hand twitch, as though he too was still feeling the warmth, and wanted to keep his grip onto the phantom fingers brushing over the tips of his nerves.

When Keroro finally left, Kululu wasted no time in returning to his attack over Dororo's skin. But something had changed now; though fervent, Kululu was softer, more precise. And mere moments had passed before their hands found each other again, and stayed that way for the rest of their time together.

–

It was night. Late. Dororo slipped past the tent where Giroro slept, crept into the air vent, and drifted through the walls like smoke carried by the wind. He tried to move with stealth and calm demeanor, but occasionally had to stop and giggle at the thought of his destination.

He dropped soundlessly into Keroro's room, sparing only a glance at his sleeping captain, and went to the refrigerator where the base's secret entrance lied. He grinned when he felt a presence waiting for him behind the door. Sure enough, upon opening the portal, a pair of familiar hands reached out and pulled him in. They tumbled back into a darkened room, laughing as they fell.

Dororo looked down as Kululu looked up, and for a moment they only looked at each other and smiled. The empty room felt full of heartbeats and unspoken thoughts that turned to a noticeable pressure. It pushed them closer, which suited them fine.

Kululu went for Dororo's mask, as he always did, and like always, Dororo let him. He enjoyed the gentle brush of fingers against rarely exposed skin and the way Kululu took a moment to stare, as though something special hid beneath that scrap of cloth. Dororo hid his face so much that he almost forgot he had one sometimes, but in their moments alone it was always first on Kululu's list.

A hand brushed over his cheek, and words were whispered between them that flowed from sweet to sensual and back again. Dororo had to laugh, because he just couldn't smile wide enough.

All at once they realized the way they were behaving. This was too much for an occasional (or frequent) fling. Dororo picked himself up off of Kululu, and they turned away from each other for a moment of private, silent thought.

Dororo bit his lip and glanced at Kululu. Something had to be said, though he wasn't sure what it would be. "Kululu... I—"

He was cut off by lips at his neck, followed by tongue and teeth that made him gasp and shiver. But this was a subject that he didn't want changed. "Kululu, I think we should..."

Again he was interrupted, this time by a heated kiss that sent his thoughts into a fog. But more than the kiss, it was Kululu's face that stopped him. Something about it had looked... He didn't know. His best guess was nervous. Kululu was excellent at hiding his emotions, so to catch even a glimpse of vulnerability was a shock.

Dororo still wanted to talk, and he wanted to know what Kululu was feeling that made him so anxious to avoid it. But he couldn't think straight when Kululu was kissing him like that, or when he was sliding his hands over all the best places...

But it stood and waited at the back of his thoughts, even as Kululu turned him into a quivering mess, and later as he returned the favor. It wasn't the kind of thought that faded easily, a patient thought, one that would be coming back to him before the end of the night. And once it came back, he knew it wouldn't leave him alone.

Things were different. Dororo could feel it. It was something in the air between them, something in its thickness. It had mass now, and was something that he felt at all times. Not a wall but a membrane, begging for osmosis.

Up until now, their relationship had been purely physical. It wasn't as though they had never spoken to each other, but there hadn't been much conversation in their time alone. Now, though, Dororo wanted to talk things out, wanted to know where they stood. Though talking hadn't been their primary focus, Dororo had at least been paying much more attention to the other since it began, and he suspected Kululu had too. So they had certainly been learning more about each other. And from his point of view, that had developed well.

He liked Kululu. Kululu had never seemed like the type of person he would like before, too cruel, too flippant, but Kululu had long since grown on him. These days, Kululu often made him laugh. And somehow Kululu had seemed kinder, more considerate. Dororo liked to think it was for him, but he had no way of knowing.

So it wasn't that liking Kululu for Kululu was new. But now when he thought ahead to their time alone, it wasn't the sex he was thinking of. He thought of speaking his mind, of listening to Kululu's hopes and feelings and ambitions. He thought of holding Kululu's hand again, and of kissing him in new ways, in chaste and sweet ways. He wanted to sit with him and look at him and talk to him and be with him.

Yes, he liked Kululu. He liked Kululu a _lot_.

This was what he'd warned himself against. This was what he'd told himself to avoid. But that patient thought of his had wormed its way through all his doubts, and now he'd decided that he didn't really care.

When they got together again, Dororo felt hesitant against each touch, not because he didn't enjoy it, but because he wanted something else, something new. He thought Kululu seemed a bit hesitant too, but maybe it was just his mind twisting his perceptions in his favor. But he had to try. This time, he wouldn't be stopped.

His heart beating into a crescendo, he stopped Kululu in the midst of his downward trail, lifted his head, and put their lips together with all the tenderness he could muster.

Kululu fell immobile in the first second. He didn't give a single twitch. Dororo couldn't even feel him breathe.

He didn't know how long he held that kiss. It seemed forever and still not long enough. He wanted to tell Kululu everything through it, show him all the things he'd been feeling and thinking, all his desires and wants and needs. But when he pulled away, he still felt unfinished, and thought maybe he always would be.

Kululu had a habit of raising his hand to his lips, but when he did it this time it wasn't to laugh. It was slowly, disbelievingly, with the rest of his body as still as stone. Dororo didn't know what to make of it. He could only bite his lip and try not to shake, try to convince himself he hadn't just done something incredibly stupid.

And when Kululu started laughing, he was sure he had. As Kululu's laughter grew, Dororo bit his lip harder and struggled not to cry. Finally he couldn't manage it, and the dam broke. Kululu's laughter quieted as he began to sob, but there were still some chuckles, giggles, even, that the other seemed unable to hold back. At this point, Dororo couldn't even try to restrain himself. He had cried a lot during his life, but he couldn't remember ever feeling as hurt as he did now.

But when he tried to leave, Kululu grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

Dororo knew he was a mess. He just wanted to grab his mask and run to cry alone somewhere. But when Kululu took his hand, he stayed. Even as he sobbed, somewhere close to heartbroken, he felt a lift in his inner muck when Kululu's hand squeezed his own.

Kululu's other hand rubbed at his cheek and brushed away his tears. Dororo started to hiccup. It was overwhelming to feel so miserable and humiliated and confused at the same time, but he kept his wide and bewildered eyes on Kululu, who only chuckled and wiped the rest of his cheek clear.

It took the careful touch for him to understand. The compressed sorrow in his chest started to break up and be replaced by joyful relief.

Kululu was happy.

Another laugh and a kiss on the corner of his lips. Without any other thought, Dororo laughed right back, a few more tears spilling from his eyes.

Kululu was happy.

–

It was over two weeks before they met up again.

They'd had the time. But whenever Dororo went looking for him, Kululu was either nowhere to be found, or had surrounded himself with company. Dororo knew what being avoided was like, or at least what being ignored was like, so he didn't need any further hints at what was happening. But he wished he had a few hints as to why.

If it had been at another time, he might have understood. If it had been before they'd stepped over that line, before they'd crossed that unspoken border, it would have made more sense to him. He still wouldn't have liked it, but at least he'd have been able to see it as reasonable.

To not want to go in too deep was understandable. To get too deep and then turn back, well, it was just unfair.

But now that they'd gotten so far, he wanted to see where it ended. No matter where that would be.

So the next chance he had, Dororo confronted him. This time he didn't wait until it wouldn't be suspicious. Before the platoon meeting began, Dororo pulled Kululu away from the table and into the outside hall, ignoring his teammates' confused faces and not listening for any protests.

Taking a deep breath, he turned to Kululu and looked him head-on. "You've been avoiding me."

Kululu hesitated, then laughed. "What are you talking about?"

Dororo scowled and folded his arms over his chest. "You've been avoiding me. All week. Why."

Kululu squirmed. He gave some weak attempts at laughter, but couldn't hide his discomfort. "It's not... I mean, I'm not..."

Dororo stalked further in, keeping his eyes fixed on Kululu's. "I'm asking why."

"It's... unprofessional, ku, for coworkers to... ku ku... date," said Kululu. Every word sounded like he wanted to pull it right back.

"And now that matters? Now that it's been several months?" said Dororo. "One night of more than just sex, and you run off. What is it? Commitment issues?" Dororo took a quick breath to brace himself for saying the next bit, wanting to keep his voice steady. "Knowing you, you wouldn't have chosen now to run off if you were just toying with me. But maybe that's just..." He stopped his tongue from spelling out the words 'wishful thinking,' and quickly rephrased. "But... but maybe I've just got you wrong."

Kululu laughed and gave an exaggerated shrug. "Maybe?"

Dororo did a double take at the word. It came like a light slap on the face, not hurtful in the collision, but in the act itself. His usual response to such a thing would be to cry, but this only left him angry. Angry and wanting to return the slap with a bit more force and physically.

In fact, he didn't want to end it at a slap. He wanted to punch Kululu right in the face, glasses still on. It would've been easy. So, so easy and so very, very satisfying.

But instead, he stopped. He took a step back. And he turned and walked away.

When he was out of earshot, Kululu released a deep and weary sigh.

–

Dororo had never had a drinking problem.

He'd always been responsible. He'd waited until he was of legal age for any casual drinking. (Excluding the first time he'd drank, when Keroro had pressured him into stealing some of his parents' beer and... well... he didn't like to remember it. Or, that is, try to remember it.) And though he had a lot of trauma to deal with, he'd never turned to alcohol to forget his problems. He gave himself a limit and never let himself get more than a little tipsy, even then making sure he was home and away from potential dangers. He'd never gotten raging drunk (excluding that first incident) and that was something he was proud of.

Tonight, he was not feeling very proud. Not very proud at all.

He wouldn't become an alcoholic over Kululu. But for just one night, it felt okay to be a drunk.

"Giroro-kuuuuuuuuun," he whined, tottering over to the glaring red tent. An empty bottle, once filled to the brim with sake, slipped from his hand and rolled away into the grass. "Gi... ro... ro... kuuu...n... You hooooome...?"

He tried to knock on the side of the tent, predictably failed, and laughed. He laid his head on the outer wall of the tent, teetering back and forth despite standing in one place. "Giroro... Giro... giro gi-ro gi-ro..." He laughed more and leaned all his weight on the tent, not noticing as it started to cave in.

A zipper zipped, and the glaring tent eyes were replaced by the real deal. Giroro's eyes were bag-rimmed and flaring. "What the hell is it?"

His question was answered by a swaying Dororo falling right into his lap. Dororo gave a hiccupy giggle. "Hiii Giroroooo... hehe... kun."

"Well shit." Giroro propped Dororo back up and quickly zipped the tent flap back closed. He led Dororo to a part of the tent where he could sit more comfortably, putting a hand on the other's shoulder to steady him. "What is this, Dororo? You never get drunk."

"Oh, you know, Giroro, yoouu know. Just ANOther trauma in my... MISerable... life!" Dororo laughed and laughed, as though he'd just told some kind of joke. Then he got quiet and stared at the ground, still swaying a bit even with Giroro's hand holding him upright. "You ever... Have you ever... thought... something? And then, and then that was... It was just... all wrong? You know? You know how that is? Do y..." He trailed off, drumming his fingers clumsily against his thigh.

"Dororo, I think you should go back to your house. Koyuki probably knows some kind of... ninja... drunkenness... medicine-healy... thing," said Giroro. "You're welcome here, but you're in poor condition. You need sleep."

"Welcome..." Dororo became to shake, his eyes filling with tears. "Welcome... I'm not... I'm n-never welcome, no one... no one ever... wants ME around... N... n..." He tried to wipe the tears from his eyes, but missed. "I thought... I thought maybe HE did...? But then... Nnnnoooope!" His arms flew in the air to match his proclamation, nearly hitting Giroro in the face. "Nope! Not him too! Either. Not. Nope. Nope!"

Giroro sighed and put his hand on Dororo's shoulder. "Okay, buddy. I don't really know what this is about, but you can stay. For a little while. Maybe the night, but only so I can make sure you get some sleep and don't just get yourself even more messed up." He folded his arms and grimaced. "I've never seen you like this. Are you going to be all right?"

"I'm fine. Fiiiine..." But Dororo sounded tired. Tired in a way that got you even after you woke up. Without warning, he slumped over onto Giroro and grabbed him by the arm, not in a violent grasp but in a tight embrace. He didn't sob, but tears were leaking onto Giroro's shoulder. "Giroro-kun... Why am I... why am I so... No one... I..."

"Hey there, hey, whoa," said Giroro. He gave Dororo an awkward attempt at a comforting pat on the head, since without his other arm, a pat on the back wasn't possible. "Calm down there, Dor... o..."

Giroro had had to stop at the look in Dororo's eyes. Dororo was depressed. He was confused. He was angry and upset and frustrated and feeling generally helpless. But most of all, right now, he was lonely, and he was drunk.

"Giroro-kun," Dororo murmured. His words still slurred, but there was decision in them now. "Giroro-kun... no one... no one wants me... no one... and I..."

Dororo leaned in. Giroro leaned back. But Giroro stopped his own protests mid-breath with a quick gasp as Dororo pulled away his mask. Giroro wanted to look, and he wanted to avert his eyes, and he wanted to tell Dororo to stop or make him stop. But he couldn't do all of it at once, which led to doing nothing. So before he knew it, Dororo's shaking lips were on his, and he was being kissed by his hurt and inebriated childhood friend.

Giroro could feel Dororo quietly sobbing and mouthing a name as he kissed. Though Dororo put his arms around Giroro's neck and tried to pull him into kissing back, the assassin's heart just wasn't in it.

So maybe he wasn't just lonely. Maybe something a little bit worse.

If it had been anyone else, and if Dororo hadn't been in such a cold place, Giroro would probably have just punched him. If Dororo had only been lonely, he would likely have at least shoved him off. But such as it was, he lifted Dororo's arms off of his shoulders and gently put Dororo away from him. He took a clean handkerchief to Dororo's growing tears, and replaced the mask on his old friend's face, doing his best not to look (though admittedly failing). He couldn't help but thoroughly wipe his own mouth clean (though he'd done his best not to react badly, being kissed by a man wasn't something he exactly enjoyed), but said nothing more and only pulled Dororo into a hug.

Comforting people wasn't usually his thing. But with Dororo, he'd had some more experience. And right now, he felt he had to give his best effort.

So that night, Giroro just let Dororo cry there in his tent, giving all the comfort he could until the other managed to fall asleep.

–

Kululu was angry.

It wasn't often that Kululu got angry. It was something difficult to accomplish. It usually only happened when someone managed to beat him at one of his talents.

In this case, though, it took the man of his many-months affair disappearing, drunk, into another man's tent, and not coming out for the rest of the night.

Kululu had a lot of cameras. They were planted everywhere on the property, and in some places that only made sense to him. But Giroro always managed to catch the ones in his tent, and Kululu had yet to place another inside.

But he still had one fixed on the outside. So he'd seen Dororo go in. He'd seen the movement of their shadows for about an hour. And then he'd seen nothing until the following morning, when Dororo had thanked Giroro, _blushed_, and left.

He watched the clips play over and over, grinding his teeth so hard there was a chance he would break some. What had happened? _What had happened? __**What had happened?**_

He drummed his fingers. He paced the floor. He threw machines into other machines and shot a laser into the monitor. He replaced the monitor easily, but he couldn't calm himself down.

He paused the video on Dororo as he left. What was that face? Embarrassed? Happy? Both? Something else entirely? What had they done? Had they done anything? Or was this just a set-up to make him jealous?

He felt his blood frizzle. Right. He wasn't angry. He was _jealous_.

When he watched that video, when he looked at that face, it wasn't Dororo he was really mad at. It was Giroro. He wanted to go into that tent and rip him apart. He would never be able to take on Giroro, but when watching this video he wanted to try.

He left the screens to take a breath. Fighting wasn't his thing. Starting even a scuffle with Giroro could get him killed. It was one thing to go after petty revenge, to work underhand to get what he wanted. But to go to someone much stronger than him, fists swinging, would just be stupid.

It didn't matter how tempting it was. (And when he thought back on that face, oh was it ever tempting.) No, he had to calm down. He had to find out what had actually happened. And he had to get Dororo back on his good graces, because he needed... because...

Kululu groaned. This was what he'd been trying to avoid. This was what he _had_ been avoiding. He'd been getting too caught up in... feelings and stuff. It was too weird for him, the thought of actually... _liking_ somebody and being with them in a romantic way. It wasn't his style, it went against his image. It didn't matter how charming the smile beneath their mask was or how fun they could be alone or how they looked into his eyes or how nerve-shorting and tender their kisses could be or how completely wonderful they...

Kululu groaned again, louder.

A thought that was molding in the back of his subconscious, constantly threatening to push into consciousness, started whispering at him. If he listened to thoughts like this, which of course he never did, he might have been able to admit that it wasn't just his image he was worried about. If he was even really worried about that at all.

An honest man would have admitted he was scared.

No one had ever liked him before. Not like this. And certainly no one this... this...

No one like Dororo.

It couldn't have lasted forever. Dororo would have left. He would have left him and Kululu would have been alone again but in a worse way, in a way that he would have noticed all the time and it would have _hurt_. No one was supposed to be able to get to him. So he'd left first.

But now it looked like that wasn't going to work.

Because he was seeing that blushing face again, that face and other faces, both masked and unmasked in various ways. So many faces that he'd liked to think were only for him to see, but now he didn't know and it was killing him.

Kululu walked back to the monitors and stared up at Dororo. He grimaced and wrung his hands, not liking all the emotions that came with the sight of him. They were new to him, new and weird and fitful in his gut. They made him want to kiss and fight and so many other things. They made him feel like a totally different person, and he didn't think he liked it. But he had waited too long to fight it, and now it was too late. And this new person wasn't willing to wait for things to just fade back to the status quo.

No, leaving wasn't going to work at all.

–

Dororo wasn't feeling much better after his night in Giroro's tent. He'd known that alcohol didn't solve anything, but testing it to find it true had still been disappointing. And though his memory was hazy, he could still recall vague images of stumbling around and making a fool of himself.

Not to mention the moment when he decided that kissing Giroro was a good idea. Every time he thought about it, he turned bright red and had to hide his face in his hands. It had to be, without a doubt, the most humiliating thing he'd ever done. He was just lucky that Giroro had been so understanding. Personally, he'd have considered it completely justified to be knocked into the next lunar cycle.

Dororo sighed. Getting a good punch would be nearly welcome right now. At least a good slap over the head. Some kind of reprimand for how stupid he'd been. For how stupid he was _being_, in fact. He had wandered into the halls of their base with the excuse of seeing what Keroro was up to, but that didn't explain why he chose to travel by hallway rather than his usual air ducts. He didn't know what he was hoping for if he did run into Kululu, but apparently that was what he wanted to happen. Maybe he wanted to tell him what he thought of him, whatever that was.

He didn't want to think about it. Maybe he really would just go find Keroro. Get himself distracted.

It was then that the floor fell beneath him. He shot down into one of Kululu's many escape tunnels, leaving behind only the echoes of an involuntary scream.

Air raged past him as he fell. He kept his arms in close; one brush against the walls at such a speed, and his hand would lose all its skin. Kululu always travelled by the tunnels, but Dororo had never been in one, and had never realized how quickly they moved. If it weren't for something in the floor holding him upright, a magnetic kind of pull that kept him in place, he would have fallen against the wall and been mangled.

The platform began to slow, and the walls opened up below him. He was dropping down to a dark but familiar floor, a dim glow from humming machines the only light. Dororo thought he heard a low chuckle, or maybe it was only the memory of laughter, the sort that he had heard so much within this room.

He saw a shadowed figure huddled before darkened monitors. Dororo's descent had been slow but steady up til now, but here, still many feet above the floor, it stopped. For a moment he thought that he would have to jump, but then the shadowed figure started to rise through the air. It was Kululu, seated in his chair, being lifted up and up and up with his eyes fixed right on Dororo.

When at last they were eye-to-eye, Dororo said nothing. He could think of nothing. But Kululu began to laugh, slowly and deliberately.

"Ku ku ku! Hello, Dororo," he said. "I've missed you."

It sounded joking and cold. Dororo wasn't sure what to make of it. It was as though Kululu had reverted back to many months ago, when he treated Dororo with condescending amusement, just as he did everyone else.

Dororo knew it was childish to use the 'two can play at that game' ploy. But still he folded his arms and gave Kululu his old disapproving stare. "Hello there, Kululu. I'd like to know the meaning of this."

"Ku ku! I wanted to see you," said Kululu. He gestured to the platform where Dororo stood. "So I gave you a ride over."

"And why did you wish to see me?"

Kululu's grin was fading under Dororo's gaze. Though Kululu had started the old attitudes game, being treated so indifferently was still getting to him. Dororo thought he would feel triumphant at that, and he did, a little, but it more just made him want to stop.

"I... um... I..." Kululu tried laughing again, but his spirit had fallen out of it.

Dororo let his cold stare slip. He'd never seen Kululu like this, and in a way it was endearing to see something affect him. Dororo felt his heart dip and swell, both sad and touched by the sight.

But then a thought seemed to flicker through Kululu's mind, and his faded grin twisted into a momentary sneer. When he looked up again, his grin was back on full power, looking forced and almost pained. "Ku ku kuu! That's right, I almost forgot, didn't I? I had something to ask you about!" He pressed a button beneath the arm of his chair, and the largest monitor below flickered on. Displayed, on pause, was a shot of the Hinata family's back yard, and in the center of the screen, Giroro's tent.

Kululu's grin grew wider as Dororo's brow began to furrow. Kululu laughed. "I don't suppose you'll mind if we watch this real quick, will you? Ku ku ku ku!"

He pressed another button, and the footage began to play. Dororo watched himself stumbling to Giroro's tent, even worse than he'd remembered, and fall inside. From there, it was only shadows, but he could see the moment when he fell onto Giroro, and could remember the very moment when he had turned it worse.

He couldn't stop his cheeks from turning red. He looked to Kululu, and Kululu was watching him, still wearing that empty grin.

Dororo looked again to the footage. Kululu had begun to fast forward, or maybe that was pre-programmed. When it played at normal speed again, it showed Dororo leaving Giroro's tent, thanking his friend and apologizing one more time. And there was when it stopped.

Kululu gave the monitor one long, heated look, then turned back to Dororo. "Well?"

It wasn't hard to figure out what Kululu was thinking. Dororo knew what this was supposed to be. Kululu showed him the 'damning evidence,' Dororo felt ashamed for what he'd done and confessed. Kululu had called him here for an explanation, not on his own part, but on Dororo's.

And that was where Dororo got angry.

"Well?" he said, spitting Kululu's question back at him like spoiled cabbage. "_Well? _You bring me here and you show me that and you ask me _**well?**_"

Kululu's grin was beginning to slip again. "Ku... Yes, you need t..."

"Me? _Me? _You think you can bring me down here and demand explanations from me? Demand to know what I've been doing as though it's something I owe you?" Dororo stepped to the edge of the platform, wishing he could reach and grab the other, or at least give him a good shove. "Do you think I've _betrayed_ you? Do you really think you can just push people away and then expect them to report back to you like you fucking own them?"

Kululu's grin was long gone. His lips curled back into a scowl. "Did you sleep with him or didn't you."

"Are you fucking serious right now? Even if I had _married_ him last night it would be no business of yours!" Dororo could step no further on the platform, but the magnet-like pull allowed him to lean in closer without falling off. "I see how you fucking think now. You can have me, but I can't have you. Is that it? You can leave whenever you get bored of me, but god forbid I even go see a friend for one night!" He was snarling now, his fingers digging into his palms with the threat of drawing blood. "And what if I did fuck him, huh? What if I did? Do you think you can do _shit_ about it, you fucking... you... you egotistical, jealous... fucking... scumbag!"

Kululu's scowl stretched wider, and he flipped another switch.

The pull beneath Dororo's feet disappeared. His balance immediately failed him, and he tumbled forward with a small cry. Kululu's chair was there to catch him, and Kululu quickly grabbed him by the arm and pulled him upright to look him in the eyes.

Dororo wasn't used to an angry Kululu. Normally Kululu was in complete control, or at least seemed to be. But now was different. Now Kululu was red in the face, his grin turned to grinding, so hard that Dororo could hear the teeth scrape over one another. The grip on his arm was tight and growing tighter, not something he was unable to get out of or withstand, but painful nonetheless. Dororo was grateful to not see Kululu's eyes through his thick glasses. Even with the glass, he could feel them torching through his own and burning at his brain.

"You fucked him then?" Kululu's voice was near whisper, no laughter in it now. "He touched you? He fucking touched you, and you let him, and he... did you... did you let him see..."

Dororo straightened himself up to look down at Kululu. "No. No, I did not sleep with Giroro-kun."

Kululu's grip slackened, and his teeth stopped grinding. When he spoke, his voice told of immense relief. "You didn't...?"

"But..." Dororo blushed again. It was always embarrassing to remember. "But, well, I was very drunk... And..." He stopped himself. Kululu didn't deserve any reassurances. "But I did kiss him."

Kululu's hold tightened again. He seemed to prickle in his seat. "_What?_"

"I removed my mask and I kissed him," said Dororo, as matter-of-factly as possible. He kept his voice firm and didn't remove his eyes from Kululu. He wasn't going to back down.

But Kululu didn't seem interested in any fighting now. To this he reacted worse than when he thought they had slept together. All the anger in his face dissipated and was replaced by an intense kind of desperation.

When Kululu's hand flew towards his face, Dororo grabbed it without thinking. But Kululu struggled, and didn't seem to be trying to slap him or punch him. If anything, he was grabbing.

Kululu's other hand released his arm and also went for his face. Dororo caught that one too, restraining him with ease. But still Kululu fought and grabbed, and Dororo could only make the conclusion that he was going for his mask.

"Kululu." Though he didn't fully understand Kululu's reaction, he spoke softly and soothingly. "Kululu, calm down. It's okay."

Still Kululu grabbed. At last he pulled back, then took Dororo by the arms again. Dororo didn't resist as their positions were flipped, his back pushed into the seat as Kululu held him pinned. But when Kululu went for his mask again, Dororo grabbed his hands and stopped him.

"Kululu," he murmured, "Kululu, Kululu, relax."

Today, Kululu had yelled. He had screamed, and he had whispered. He had thrown things, he had shot things. And now, he cried.

It was a messy thing, as crying usually was. There are no real pretty criers. Kululu's tears came hot and fast, cheeks painted red with an old and knotted paintbrush. His cries were thin and high and frustrated, each with a sloppy staccato that left them echoing around the walls of the laboratory. Dororo let go of his hands, but Kululu wasn't grabbing anymore. There was only crying and sobbing and the twitching of someone wanting to hide their face with nowhere to hide it.

Dororo kept on speaking to him, gentle words paired with gentle caresses. He slipped away his mask and kissed at Kululu's face, from forehead to cheek to nose to jaw, to lips and to tears and to lips again, not pecks but soft pushes between comforting murmurs. Their argument and their mistakes didn't matter now, not right now. Later they would talk and they would settle things, they would put things in their proper place and bring themselves back to Right. But for now, all that mattered was Kululu.

"Kululu, Kululu, Kululu..."

Kululu took hold of Dororo's face and took a good, long look. Then he kissed Dororo right back.

The feeling was mutual. The argument didn't matter now. Only Dororo. Only each other.

–

Kululu wasn't good at explaining his feelings, but Dororo managed to understand. What mattered most was that Kululu was trying, genuinely trying and it was for him. They could worry about perfecting it later.

They spoke for hours. Not all of it was about their problems and how to fix them. In fact, most of it was about little things, unimportant yet indispensable things that needed to be spoken of simply because they existed. Things like the way the other moved and talked and laughed, or the way they woke up in the morning or how many times they thought about the other and their little things. They talked about dreams both sleeping and waking, and about the inner workings of machines and the way that waves flowed over sand. They talked about everything they could think of, and no matter what they said, they never tired of hearing each other speak.

When they grew tired, they fell asleep together in Kululu's bed, curled together due to both lack of space and a simple need to touch. And when they woke, they spoke some more, and didn't part until the last moment they could spare.

The windows were clean. The blinds were drawn. They could look at each other now with a clearer view, without the fear of what hid behind fingerprints smudged on the glass. And with the window clean, they were on their way to opening it.

Months passed.

Kululu's hands felt softer. His grin looked kinder. His laughter sounded brighter. Dororo didn't know what was real and what was love's pink-tinted glasses, but all at once everything was more wonderful.

Their relationship wasn't perfect, but perfect was a lot to ask for. And things were closer to perfect than he'd ever even dreamed.

It was in the way Kululu looked at him and in the way they spoke beneath the covers late at night, it was in breaths put on hold for needy kisses and in whispered comforts during longer days. Dororo didn't need to mark his calender to remind him when he fell in love, because it happened again every morning when he awoke to see Kululu lying next to him.

Dororo would look down at Kululu's sleeping face and he would smile. And he would let him sleep, but could never help but kiss his lover's forehead as his chest so softly rose and fell.

Things may not have been perfect, but everything felt just Right.

End


	2. Alternate Ending

((this was a gag ending I wrote when I wasn't sure how to actually end this thing, decided I might as well post it))

* * *

"Kululu, Kululu, Kululu..."

Kululu took hold of Dororo's face and took a good, long look. Then he kissed Dororo right back.

The feeling was mutual. The argument didn't matter now. Only Dororo. Only each other.

–

It was now that Keroro realized, for about the fiftieth time, just how corny this story was.

This wasn't the kind of thing that happened in real life. This was the sort of thing found in romance novels that you hid under your bed so no one would know you read them. This was the sort of thing dateless teenagers daydreamed about when they should have been working on other things.

But as far as assignments went, it would have to do.

It had been an odd assignment. Apparently the people back on Keron who worked on their television show had done a recent survey, saying that audiences wanted more romance. And not just one-sided crushes that never went anywhere, actual romance. So they'd told Keroro to make some for them.

Keroro wasn't much in the way of matchmaker, and all the confusing love triangles around him were too complicated to mess with. (Or at least the TV Executives said there were love triangles everywhere. Keroro thought they were just making things up for ratings. Lady Moa having a thing for him! Ridiculous.)

So he'd asked them if it would be all right to just make something up for their show, rather than making anything actually happen in real life. It wasn't worth getting mixed up in. Thankfully, they'd agreed.

Looking at the relationship chart they'd sent him, Keroro had chosen two of the very few people who seemed to have no romantic ties yet, and had just thrown them together to see what would happen. It had turned into fifteen pages of dramatic nonsense scattered all over his table. Not just dramatic nonsense, but nearly NC-17 dramatic nonsense. If he was a more easily embarrassed kind of guy, he'd never have been able to face his teammates again. Imagine, writing soft-core porn about his coworkers, and on orders, no less.

He sighed and chewed the end of his pencil. At least it was almost done. Next time, he'd just tell the TV executives to deal with it themselves.

He started tapping his pencil against his desk, resting his chin in his other hand. But how to end it? Stopping here just didn't seem to fit. You don't end an episode with two people kissing, at least not if it isn't their first mutual kiss. That was basic. No, the end had to be something good, something solid. No twists, no copouts, no humorous reveals. Those were techniques for amateurs and cowards.

Keroro thought and thought for what may have been a good five minutes, when at last, it came to him. With a delighted grin, he wrote the final lines with a speed that nearly tore through the paper.

His pencil rolled away to rest. With a satisfied smirk, Keroro straightened up the pages and looked at his work.

Fifteen pages of bullshit. All to be played on intergalactic television.

A wonderful accomplishment indeed.

Now, though, he needed a nap. He slipped a paperclip over the pages, tossed them back on the desk, and went to bed.

An hour or so later, Dororo leapt to the floor from an air vent. Keroro was in too deep of sleep to hear him.

"Captain, sir, I—oh." He sighed. It hadn't been anything too important, but still he'd hoped to speak with Keroro for a while. "I guess I'll come back later..."

"Ku ku! You too, eh?" said Kululu, slipping up through the floor from one of his secret tunnels. "And the Captain asked me to come here himself. Figures... kuu ku ku ku..."

"Oh, uh... yes..." Dororo and Kululu didn't speak much, and when they did, Dororo was never sure what to say. He decided for now it would be best just to retreat. "Uh, I guess I'll see you later, then..."

But Kululu wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Instead, the grinning sergeant major had picked up a stack of papers from Keroro's desk. "Well, hello, ku ku..."

"Kululu! Those are Keroro-kun's private papers, and you should not be... is... is that my name?" Kululu passed him the first page. One look at the first sentence, and Dororo's face rivaled a ripe Red Delicious. "W... what is this!"

"Ku ku! This is terrible," said Kululu, scanning some of the end pages. "He wrote me crying. Crying! Ku ku ku ku!"

"This... This is so..." Dororo grabbed at a few more pages, his face still burning. He scanned over a particular passage and swallowed. "...Ah..."

Dororo glanced at Kululu. Before he could stop them, his eyes had flickered over Kululu's figure. He hastily shook himself out of it and returned to skimming.

"Is there even a plot to this thing? Ku ku... ku..." His laughter trailed off, and for a moment Kululu just read in silence, his attention caught by something Dororo wasn't sure he wanted to read. Now even Kululu's cheeks were red.

Dororo offered a nervous chuckle. "And these ideas, I don't... I mean, a robot just for..." He tried to ignore how the thought made his mouth go dry.

Kululu glanced over his shoulder to read the sentence he was talking about. "Actually, ku," he said, "I have a machine like that. Ku ku!"

Dororo could feel his mind crackle. "Y... you do?"

"Ku ku, yea...h..." Kululu turned to Dororo and had to pause. Dororo was looking at him, but at the same time at something far away. It occurred to him now that they were both seeing each other very differently.

Kululu swallowed away an odd lump in his throat and leaned in closer. "You know... ku... if you ever wanted to see it..."

"_**KERORO!**_"

Both Dororo and Kululu visibly jumped as Giroro slammed open the door. Dororo threw the pages together and slapped them back on the table while Kululu disappeared back down into the floor. Giroro paid no attention to either of them, stalking straight to Keroro to throttle him over something or other.

Seeing that Giroro was distracted, Dororo didn't bother to escape into the ceiling. Instead, he used the door.

In the hallway, a section of wall rotated to reveal a monitor. It displayed Kululu in his lab, grin more devilish than before.

"Ku ku! So," he said, "Meet me downstairs, maybe...?"

Dororo took a moment's pause, but in the end there wasn't much to think about. Sure it was unprofessional, but since when had professionalism mattered so much, anyway?

He smiled. "See you soon."


End file.
